To Catch a Killer
by AirInMyMind
Summary: When a serial killer targeting Muggleborn women appears in Britain, Behavioral Analysis Unit profiler Hermione Granger searches for any indication of who this monster and his next target may be. She finds herself forced to work with none other than Draco Malfoy, Improper Use of Magic analyst. Can they cooperate long enough to catch a killer? Or will they become trapped in his game?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I own nothing, though if I owned Harry Potter I would've given Draco the redemption ark he FUCKING DESERVES, so maybe I should own Harry Potter?

I've been on a huge Criminal Minds kick recently. Dr. Reid is kinda my soul mate. Granted I'll only have one doctorate and I'll probably be 26, not 24 but still. I know a lot of Dramione post-war crime fics where Muggleborns are being targeted have been done but let's be honest, it's Harry Potter fanfiction, everything has been done. I am not claiming to be original here, but I wanted to try my hand at a crime/suspense story and honestly Hermione as a Dr. Reid type fits so well in my mind. This is DARK. Or at least it should be, as I said, I'm trying out this whole genre. I did write a lot of it while watching actual episodes of Criminal Minds so there's that.

This is canon-ish ignoring the epilogue. I am probably ignoring a lot of the post-DH stuff JK has released.

* * *

No matter how many crime scenes she investigated, the bitter tang of blood in the air would never fail to make Hermione want to retch. She'd fought the frontline of a war and survived. She'd gone through Auror training in record time. She'd been a member of the highly specialized Behavioral Analysis Unit for three years. Hermione Granger had seen bodies mangled in every way possible, but it never got any easier. She paused for a moment to brace herself before entering the room. She took a deep breath; while the air out here was tinged with iron it would only get stronger once she entered the room. As she exhaled, she tried to send out all emotion with her breath. She was a professional. These crime scenes, these criminals were a puzzle. With a final breath she pushed the door open, hoping she was prepared to see what was inside.

The body was mangled, spread out across the once white carpet, now stained with the pool of her blood. She'd been sliced from the neck down with a slicing hex, by the looks of it. Filleted open down to the ribs; Hermione couldn't help but wince when she saw the white bones protruding from her dark red flesh. "What have we got?" She asked the crime scene investigator kneeled down and inspecting the body. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, of average height and slender build. She was pale, and Hermione couldn't tell if that was her natural disposition or because nearly her entire blood volume seemed to be soaked into the carpet around her. Her dark curly hair spread out around her, frizzy and matted from whatever had occurred here.

"We've identified her as Adelise Autry. She's nineteen. Muggleborn. Worked as an au pair for Robert Brown and his wife Matlida, but their daughter started Hogwarts two months ago, so she was working at a Muggle café nearby, apparently looking for another childcare position. She was educated at Beauxbatons. She'd been in Bath for close to two years now, the Browns have an estate outside of the city."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip to keep it from quivering. She was so young. So young with her whole life ahead of her. Hermione couldn't help but feel cheated; she'd fought an entire war to protect people like Adelise, yet this was the third young Muggleborn woman that had been found dead in as many months. She saw herself in the mangled corpse lying naked on the floor. Hermione shook the thought from her head; this had nothing to do with her. She was being selfish. This was about the corpse in front of her, and bringing the madman committed these crimes to justice. "Brown. Any relation to Lavender? She was in Gryffindor with me..." Hermione trailed off. Lavender had been savagely murdered by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts; she was sure the sight of his blood drenched face as he devoured her neck would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

"Second cousins," he nodded before returning his attention to the corpse. He continued to wave his wand over her, extracting as much information as he possibly could.

Hermione stood in silence, looking everywhere but the body. Two aurors bustled about the small studio apartment looking for any trace evidence or potential clues the killer may have left behind. A crime scene photographer stood in a corner, waiting for the investigation to end so he could finish documenting the crime scene. Adelise's girlfriend, a half-blood by the name of Melody Gilmore sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket shakily holding a cup of tea. A third auror was attempting to question her, but the young woman had been silent. Hermione wondered why they hadn't removed her from the scene. She was clearly in shock and remaining in this room was not helping. Hermione stepped over to the investigator, kneeling down next to him. The smell of blood gagged her at this proximity, causing her eyes to water. But she pushed on. "So what do we know?" She pulled a small notebook and a pen from her purse, readying herself to take notes; she'd always found quills and parchment more than a little impractical and now that the war was over, Muggle technology was slowly being integrated into the Wizarding World.

"She didn't have wards on the place, so that doesn't give us much to go on. There were spells on her door and the windows, but they wouldn't have been particularly difficult to break for a half decent wizard." The end of the war had lured many Muggleborns into a false sense of security; the other two victims had not had many protections on their dwellings. "The attack fits the M.O. of the other two victims. Her limbs show no signs of ligature marks, so she was probably held down magically or just by brute force. She was raped, but the unsub used a cleaning charm on the body, so we haven't found any traces of DNA to use with a Polyjuice potion. Her body shows signs of the crutiatus curse and her neck shows signs of choking, but the cause of death was blood loss from the slicing hex."

Hermione wrote down every word the investigator said, but it was nothing she hadn't heard before; the other two women had been attacked in the exact same manner. "It's unclear whether or not this is anger excitation or retaliatory behavior," she murmured as she continued to write. "Though all three victims have been Muggleborn. The unsub may just be praying on Muggleborn women because he anticipates they'll be less guarded; their parents never instilled the importance of wards and the like on them. But it's also possible he is specifically targeting Muggleborns due to prejudice. He may be a former Death Eater, or someone associated with other blood purity movements."

The investigator just shrugged; this was not his area. Hermione had been thinking out loud more than anything; her field was highly specialized, and she did not expect other members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to understand profiling. As she finished her last note, she stood up. "I think that's all I need from you for now. Send over your full report to my department once you've finished here and let me know personally if you come across any new information. Anything that deviates from or builds upon the established M.O." The investigator nodded and returned to his work. Now for the victimology. Hermione turned to face the couch and took another deep breath as she walked over to the shaken young woman and clueless auror. "Hawkins," she said curtly, alerting him of her presence. "I think we would have much better luck if we removed this poor young woman from the scene of the crime," she said scathingly. Hawkins simply looked confused. Hermione ignored him and kneeled down, so she was at level with the young woman. She had sleek dark hair, deep olive skin, and round nearly black eyes that were rimmed with red. "Hello miss," she said gently. "My name is Auror Hermione Granger. I'm a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit within the Auror Department. I'd like to talk to you about Miss Autry, if you don't mind. Would you rather we leave here to do so."

The young woman barely looked at her, but she nodded ever so slightly. Hawkins was a bloody idiot. She'd be sure to report that to his superiors later on. Honestly, how did he expect to get any information from the woman while she was sitting across from her girlfriend's mangled body? "I'm going to side-along you back to the Ministry, if that's alright with you." She noted the blood on her clothes. "You can get cleaned up and have a cup of tea and then we can just talk about Miss Autry, alright?"

"Alright," the girl choked. Her voice cracked and sounded harsh and broken, likely from screaming when she discovered what had happened to Adelise. Hermione stood up and placed a hand at the girl's elbow, helping her stand. She led her out of the apartment and with a last look at Adelise Autry, she shut the door behind them.

"Hold on tight," Hermione warned as she focused on the Three D's. The last thing this traumatized young woman needed was for Hermione to accidentally splinch her on route to the Ministry. With a final thought, Hermione spun on the spot, carrying the girl with her into nothingness with a small pop.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was bloody exhausted. He ran both hands through his hair, pulling slightly as he loomed over the stack of papers on his desk, reading and rereading the note his supervisor had sent him. As part of his probation, he'd been assigned to the Improper Use of Magic Department, focusing on the use of Dark Magic. He'd been assigned to work two years in the office and had started out as a mere intern. It had been entirely symbolic, of course. Due to Potter's testimony of their encounter at the manor and his juvenile age when volunteered for the mark, as well as Minister Shacklebolt's focus on rebuilding through rehabilitation after the war, Draco had just escaped prison time. Instead, he'd been forced to pay large retributions from the Malfoy fortune and serve three years of probation, during which he had had a trace put on him and he had not been allowed to leave the country. Since Lucius had died in the Final Battle, Draco was now the Head of the Malfoy Family. The Ministry wanted to use him as a symbol of their rehabilitation efforts, as an example of the progress that could be made. Consequentially, his probation included a job within the Improper Use of Magic Department, focusing on the Dark Magic he and his family had once been involved with. He had been extraordinarily lucky.

At first he had scorned the position; no matter how far he and his family Name had fallen at the end of the war, he could not believe a Malfoy was forced into being someone's intern. He had sworn he'd leave the position the second his probation no longer required it. But Malfoy had always been competitive. As much as he wanted to simply go through the motions of the position, his already damaged pride wouldn't let him be merely adequate at the work. Within a year, he'd been promoted to junior analyst; he knew that had never been the intention of the Ministry, but they couldn't ignore his accomplishments. Tired of being downtrodden, Malfoy decided to shine at his work, eager to shake the title of intern. He had a distinct advantage over many of his colleagues. He knew the way this magic worked and what drove someone to use it; he'd used it himself. Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen in love with his job. It was challenging and dynamic and required him to utilize every skill he'd ever developed, good or bad. When his probation ended, Malfoy didn't think twice about staying in the department. He'd been so adamant that once he was free, he'd leave the Ministry behind, leave Britain behind, leave all of it behind. But when the day came, Draco arrived to work early and continued to work on the case he'd been working on for months. He never regretted his choice to stay.

Right now, however, he cursed his job. He'd been with the department for nearly six years and was currently the senior analyst in charge of Dark Artifacts. It was fitting; his childhood home had been riddled with the things. He felt comfortable in this position and appreciated the isolation of it all; he had a small team that collaborated frequently with the Ministry's curse breakers, but he rarely had to interact with other departments. Despite all he had done to redeem himself, there were still many people who believed he should be in a prison cell. He was far more effective at his work when he didn't have to waste precious time convincing his associates that he was no longer a Dark Wizard. His group knew and respected him. The curse breakers had grown to trust him. His superiors valued him. There was no reason for him to deviate from his sphere unless absolutely necessary.

Which was why he had absolutely no idea why Mafalda Hopkirk was requesting he work with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on a serial killer case. There weren't even any artifacts involved. He read the letter for a fifth time, still convinced he had been misunderstanding it; his department head knew many people within the Ministry still distrusted him. Many within the DMLE had argued for a stronger sentence against him. With a final glance at her signature, Draco snatched the letter up in his hand and exited his office. He had to speak with her. Make her see reason.

* * *

Melody was sitting at the edge of the small couch in Hermione's office, staring blankly at the older witch. "Why don't we just start out with how you met Miss Autry. How long have you known her?" Hermione found it always helped to talk about the recently deceased in the present tense. Forcing Melody to confront the reality of her lover's death would make her less likely to talk.

"I'm Mrs. Brown's assistant. She has a small business designing robes. I always loved fashion and our mothers went to Hogwarts together. Hufflepuff. She got me the position. Mrs. Brown was always more of a housewife, she did the design stuff on the side, but then a couple years ago her robes were featured in Witch Weekly. Things took off from there and she hired me. And Adelise, to help watch Rebecca. We met at the house." Hermione noted her accent.

"And how long have you two been romantically involved?"

"We started up a month or two after knowing each other. I've always known I liked witches and the French are very… fluid about that sort of thing."

"What's your blood status?" Hermione shifted the conversation, not wanting to dwell on the relationship for too long.

"I'm a half-blood. My mom's a witch. My dad's a No-Maj."

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Do you know Marissa Jacobs? Or Rebecca Smith?" Melody just shook her head. "You didn't go to Hogwarts, correct?"

"My father is American. I went to Ilvermorny. But my mom still had connections here, so I moved after school to work for Mrs. Brown."

"Did Adelise seem strange recently? On guard? Did she mention anyone new, particularly a man?"

Melody began to cry and shook her head. "No, nothing. She was working at a Muggle café, she wasn't meeting many Wizards. Other than the families she was interviewing with."

"Do you know the families?"

"The Fawleys, the Macmillans, and the Rogers."

Hermione smiled as she wrote the names down. It was something, at least. "Thank you so much for your help, Melody. I'll have an Auror escort you home."

* * *

He ignored her secretary as he pushed open the office door, not bothering to knock. Ms. Hopkirk looked up from her desk. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

He held the letter up, "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't kid, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a curt look that rivaled that of Professor McGonagall.

"This isn't even my area," he insisted. "And you know the DMLE are not my biggest fans." That was an understatement.

"You've proved yourself time and time again, Draco," her voice softened. "I'm sure they'll be able to see that. And the change of pace may do you good. You've grown a little complacent surrounded by your artifacts. What is that saying? Grow or die? I don't imagine you want to stay in the same position forever, and you've risen as high as one can within artifacts. Consider this a test of sorts." She knew he could never refuse an opportunity to prove himself. Draco Malfoy may have matured from his Hogwarts self, but he was still a Slytherin through and through; that thirst to prove himself would never die.

Draco knew he was being manipulated, but also didn't see an out. He couldn't refuse the position now. "You haven't even told me what the case is."

"There's a serial killer targeting young Muggleborn women. Three have died thus far. The third was discovered earlier today. They've all been sexually assaulted, tortured, and then killed via a slicing hex. Left to bleed out."

All the air seemed to leave the room as Draco gulped, trying to process what his superior had told him. "Merlin…" he whispered. "That's… barbaric."

"Indeed," she nodded. "He's savage, but very clever. The DMLE is struggling with the case and asked me for an analyst. Someone with a new perspective."

"I don't know how I'm going to be of much help to the aurors."

Mafalda shook her head, "You won't be working with the aurors. Well, technically speaking it's within the Auror department. But my understanding is that you'll be aiding the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Working with the profilers. They are all technically aurors, but they take a vastly different approach than the main auror units."

"Behavioral Analysis? I'm not a Mind-Healer, Hopkirk."

"No, you are not. But you are an incredibly analytical mind with an understanding of Dark Wizards. If these attacks are politically motivated, you could be of great service."

"Don't you dare compare my past to what this bastard is doing," Draco hissed, glaring at her. He knew he was flawed. He knew that he had committed terrible crimes in the past. But he would not be compared to some psychopath raping and murdering women. There were things that even at his darkest points Draco Malfoy would have never considered, and this sort of violence made him sick to his core. He'd never managed to kill anyone, for that matter.

Mafalda frowned. "That was not my intention, Mr. Malfoy. You know how highly I regard you. I simply meant that this person could be formerly associated with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or another blood purity group. You are one of few former Death Eaters who has truly reformed, and the only one with such a position within the Ministry. Your past experience with these people may be an invaluable tool to the DMLE." Draco simply nodded, unable to shake her correlation, whether or not it had been intentional. "We have a meeting tomorrow morning at 8:30 with the Head of the DMLE, Percy Weasley, the Head of the Auror Department, Olivia Jones, and the Head of the BAU, Victor Corner. I'd imagine some of the key aurors and profilers on the case will be in attendance, but that's all I know for certain."

This woman was digging his grave. While Percy may not be as repugnant as Ron, he was still a Weasley and therefore hating him was in his blood. He bit his tongue to refrain from making a comment about the Weasley. "And of my current case?"

"I'm sure your team can manage without you, Mr. Malfoy. I'd advise you to go back to your wrap up any lose ends and then pass the project off to Mr. Dodge. After that I suggest you go home. Get to bed early. We have an early morning and I'm sure tomorrow will be a trying day." With that, he was dismissed, and Malfoy nodded his goodbye before returning to his office to do exactly what she had directed.

The case was nearly finished, so it did not take him long to finalize his notes and outline the best course of action. He called his intern into the office, asking he young wizard to copy the files and distribute them to his team. The idiot managed to drop them not once, but three times on the way out the room. Merlin, was it impossible to get good help around here? Clearly Hogwarts deteriorated since he'd attended. Marcus Mitchell had apparently graduated near top of his class last spring, but he had proven to be nothing but incompetent. He fought the urge to hex him every day. Mafalda insisted that he was too hard on the boy, but incompetence was incompetence. Draco looked up at the clock, surprised to see that it was only 4:30; he normally worked until at least six. But he'd completed his tasks and didn't have access to any of the files surrounding the murders, so he had nothing else to work on. He was sure early nights would be few and far between once the investigation began, so he figured he'd take the early night when he could get it. Draco grabbed his robes from their hook and shrugged them on, exiting his office.

* * *

A/N: Okay, here it is! Please review! This is a new area for me so I'm very curious to see how you like it. I stayed up way too late writing it so forgive any typos – I'm not good at proofreading my own work. It's a little short, was hoping for closer to 5k but also getting a new story set up is always a bit of a challenge. For any Revelations readers, I am working on chapter 12, but James and Lily are not cooperating with me. Blame them, not me. Again, please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I own nothing! But let me know if Joanne ever decides to sell Draco; she does not see his potential.

* * *

Hermione groaned as her pillow began to vibrate. She'd had a restless sleep, her dreams haunted by images of the three victims. They were just too familiar. She'd worked serial killer cases before, but none of them had hit this close to home. The women were all only a few years younger than she was. Muggleborn. Merlin, they even looked a little her; all three women were white with brown, curly hair. With a third victim, they could be more certain that the killer was specifically targeting women with these features. They likely resembled an ex-lover or even his mother. The shared appearance of the victims was an important detail; she just wished that she didn't share some of these features. Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up, frowning when she realized that the sun was yet to rise; she had no idea why their meeting was set for so early. Shrugging on a robe and grabbing her wand, she dragged herself downstairs and into the kitchen and set the kettle on with a flick of her wand; she needed a very strong cup of coffee. Or two. She poured the grounds into her French press and sad down at the counter. Her case files were still spread out from last night. Reluctantly, she looked over them; it was really too early to be looking at images of mangled bodies.

Surprisingly to most, Hermione had not returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year. She'd been changed too much by the war to return to school. Hogwarts had been a place of idealism and innocence for her, despite everything that had occurred while she was a student there. When Dumbledore died, that illusion was shattered. She wanted to hold onto the Hogwarts of her memories. She also felt smothered by the way people looked at her. Hermione Granger was a war hero. A celebrity. And it made her feel sick the way people looked at her with wide eyes and admiration, not knowing what it was that she'd endured. The year following the war she'd been desperate to escape the public eye. Harry and Ron had felt the same way. The Golden Trio had studied for their NEWTs independently, with Hermione acting as their professor for most of the courses. Unsurprisingly, she'd achieved 7 NEWTs - all Outstanding. After their year of studying and healing, the Golden Trio had been forced to reenter the Wizarding World. They'd needed that time. In fact, they probably could have used more. But without the excuse of their self-studied NEWTs, there was nowhere else to hide.

Harry had immediately enrolled in the Auror Academy, his hero complex not sated by the end of the War. Hermione had hoped he could leave behind the obligation he felt to protect everyone, an obligation that had been forced on him before he had even been born. He'd never had a real childhood, and Hermione had tried to encourage him to play Quidditch or teach DADA, but Harry was Harry; as long as there were victims, he would be a protector. Ron had taken up Fred's post at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, working alongside his elder brother. Hermione thought it suited him, and she knew it had meant the world to George to have a brother working alongside him again after Fred's death. Hermione had been unsure of how to proceed; her entire life had been dictated by the War. There was nothing dictating her decision now, and that prospect petrified her. She spent months comparing the merits of becoming a Healer, or a Curse Breaker, or an Auror, or a Professor until all the hypotheticals began to make her feel sick. It was during this time that she learned of the Behavioral Analysis Unit within the Auror Department and she was immediately intrigued. She'd done enough fighting to last a lifetime but knew that crime would not stop without a War. This approach to solving crimes intrigued her and led her to apply to the Auror Academy six months after Harry had. She completed the training in a record six months; it generally lasted a year and a half to two years. Harry had done it in a year, so they graduated together. After a year as a general Auror, she'd begun the BAU coursework. By the end of the first lecture, given by the Department Head Victor Corner, Hermione was certain she had made the right decision.

Cases like these, however, threatened her resolve. Not that she ever seriously considered leaving the BAU, but she often wondered what her life would be like if she had chosen a different career path. Analyzing the deranged didn't cater to having much of a social life. It didn't bother her, per se, as Hermione had always been a bit of an outsider. But sometimes she felt like her work was inhibiting her from 'growing up' in the manner her friends were. Last week, for example, she'd received a firecall from Ginny excitedly telling her that Luna had said yes. The youngest Weasley was engaged, and Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a proper relationship. Ron's wife, Demelza Weasley nèe Robins, was nearly six months pregnant with their first child, though Ron had always been the family sort. Even Harry seemed happy in his current relationship; he'd surprisingly started back up with Cho Chang, now a Quidditch columnist with the Daily Profit, nearly a year ago. Hermione had never been the girl's biggest fan, but she'd changed a lot since Hogwarts. They all had. The important thing was that Harry seemed happy. Hermione spent a lot of time as the third, or fifth, or sometimes even seventh wheel with her friends. She'd always been career driven and did not regret her choices in the slightest, but it was difficult to shake the feeling that she was being left behind by her friends. She was professionally successful, quickly becoming renowned in her field, yet her personal life seemed stagnant. Her friends were starting families, developing relationships, becoming real adults. Sometimes she felt trapped in her early twenties, despite the fact that she was twenty-six.

The kettle began to sing and Hermione but down the list of unsub characteristics she had been working on and flicked it off with her wand, pouring the boiling water over the coffee grounds. She ate a small yogurt as she waited for her coffee to brew. Hermione wasn't usually one for breakfast, but she knew she had a long day ahead of her. She returned to the counter, nursing her coffee and returned her files to their folder.

* * *

Draco magiked the water in his shower to near scalding before stepping in, hissing as the hot water hit his sweaty and exhausted body. He started nearly every morning with a jog and this one had progressed to a sprint as he'd tried to force the insecurities he felt about this new assignment out of his body. It was out of his element, a place where Draco never shined. He liked to be in control of his environment. His expertise with artifacts allowed him to do exactly that. But this new assignment would be unlike anything he'd ever worked on. New material, new tasks, new colleagues… It worried him. There were too many unknowns in this situation. He craved control and felt as if he had none.

After finishing his shower, Draco wrapped a towel around his waist and headed down the stairs of his flat and into the kitchen. He brewed himself some earl grey tea and spread some orange marmalade onto a piece of toast, sitting down at the breakfast table to sort through his correspondence. The Profit had a feature on the murders, which he ignored; he'd soon enough know the full details of the case and didn't want to be misinformed by whatever sensationalist shite the media was spewing. He wished he'd been given access to the case files last night; he felt woefully underprepared for this meeting. He absentmindedly thumbed through a Quidditch catalogue as he ate before turning his attention to his letters. One was from Blaise and Theodore, inviting him to a housewarming party on Friday. He'd RSVP to that later once he knew what his work schedule would be like on the new case. The next was a letter from Pansy detailing her vacation in Maldives. It included a particularly adorable photograph of his goddaughter, Vanessa. The final was a letter from his mother. He groaned when he opened it and a clipping from Witch Weekly. The article was titled "Is Britain's Baddest Bachelor Back on the Market?" and featured a photograph of him. It detailed his apparent separation from Astoria Greengrass – they had hardly even dated – and then it went on to discuss other witches he'd been tied to. He turned to his mother's letter, cursing whoever had written the article.

" _My dearest Draco,_

 _I cannot believe a mother has to learn of her son's relationships through gossip magazines. I wasn't aware you were even involved with Astoria and now I find you've broken up with her? What a shame, she is a very pretty girl. I feel as if I haven't seen you in weeks. I know you're very busy with work, but I'd appreciate it if you could stop by for dinner sometime soon. Even just tea. And now that you're apparently 'back on the market' I do know some lovely witches I could introduce you to._

 _Please come by soon._

 _Love,_

 _Narcissa"_

He felt guilty; it had been a few weeks since he had seen his mother at the manor. She was right, he had been very busy with work. Still, he summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and wrote his reply.

" _Mother,_

 _You didn't hear about it because it was hardly even a thing. You know how these tabloids are. Leggy and blonde, yes. Smart, Salazar no. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I'm being pulled onto a new case with the auror department that I'm sure will keep me busy, but if I'm not at the office too late tonight I can come by. I'll firecall you once I'm done with work. And please don't start playing matchmaker, mother._

 _Draco"_

His owl was out, so he'd have to send the letter from the office. He scourgified his dishes and returned them to the cabinet before walking back upstairs to his bedroom to get ready for what he was certain would be a very long and trying day.

* * *

"The unsub was a white male in his mid to late twenties, judging by the age of his victims. He was intelligent, judging by the lack of witnesses or evidence left at the crime scenes. He could be a Pureblood, if the targeting of Muggleborn women is rooted in blood purity, but there's no good proof of that. I believe if it is his intention to make a political statement with these actions, he'll contact the press in some way or leave a manifesto of sorts with the next victim. If not, we can assume he's targeting Muggleborn women because he believes them to be easier targets. There's no strong correlation between the women other than their appearance and their blood status. They are all white women with curly brunette hair. They all work in very different fields; Miss Autry was in childcare, working in a Muggle café while searching for another position, Miss Jacobs was a secretary within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Miss Smith worked within media relations for Kwikspell. Two of the victims were in relationships while one was single. Miss Autry had a girlfriend while Miss Jacobs was engaged to Justin Finch-Fletchley. Both Miss Smith and Miss Jacobs were from Britain while Miss Autry was from France. Due to the lack of direct correlation between the victims, the unsub is very comfortable in different scenarios. He's watched these women in order to understand their patterns and attack them when they are alone and vulnerable. He blends in to both Wizard and Muggle societies, as Miss Autry was most recently employed in the Muggle world. The unsub suffered some sort of trauma three months ago that catalyzed his behavior. Likely a partner who resembled these women left him, but it could also be related to his mother in some way. He's a sexual sadist, likely impotent in consensual sexual encounters. The manner in which he dominates these women leads me to believe that he holds a low position of power in his work but craves more. He feels he's entitled to more power. Perhaps he's been looked over for promotions he feels he deserves. It's possible he was recently laid off, stripped of his professional power, which coupled with the event involving a woman who resembles these victims and drove him to kill. This type of unsub will continue killing until he is caught. With each kill, the gratification he feels lessens. He's like an addict chasing a high. Consequentially, both the rate and brutality of the attacks will increase. The first victim, Miss Smith was killed three months ago. Two months passed before Miss Jacobs was murdered. A month later, the unsub attacked Miss Autry. We can expect another attack within three weeks, likely sooner. I saw this morning that the Profit has already gotten their hands on the case. I would still like to release a press statement, identifying the victim type. We don't want to create mass hysteria, but women who fit his victim description – white, early twenties, brunette with curly hair, and Muggleborn – should all be on alert and improve the protection on their homes. We can also release details of our unsub profile. Someone knows this man. His behavior is likely to become increasingly volatile in the coming weeks, to the point where his peers will notice if they haven't already."

"Thank you for your profile, Miss Granger," Mr. Corner nodded. "It is very comprehensive." Hermione had been the lead profiler on many cases before this one, but this was certainly the largest case she'd been put in charge of. She'd wanted to be prepared for this meeting and was pleased she'd achieved that goal. Mr. Corner had practically invented the field; he was a former mind-Healer who had joined the Auror Department and founded the BAU after being asked to provide expert witness testimony to numerous trials. His approval meant everything to her.

"Yes, Miss Granger, that was insightful," Percy agreed, scratching notes as he spoke.

"I'd like a copy of the full profile to distribute to our aurors," Ms. Jones added.

"Of course, Ms. Jones. And I'd be happy to come by the office and give the profile in person as well. Give the aurors an opportunity to ask questions."

Draco just stared at Hermione. He'd been staring at her for the entire meeting. It had started out as a surprised look; he hadn't realized she was within the BAU. Granted, he'd hardly heard of the BAU before now, but still. He'd probably heard that she was an auror, but it hadn't registered. Draco always imagined the insufferable bookworm would have returned to Hogwarts to teach or done something else within academia. Granted, she had fought a war, but she'd never seemed the type to pursue law enforcement. The stare then progressed to one of annoyance. She was the lead profiler on the case. He'd be working with and more importantly, under Hermione Granger. Draco's former belief in blood purity aside, he could not stand Hermione Granger. She was pretentious, chatty, and so ridiculously insecure it was impossible not to mock her endlessly. Even now as she gave her presentation she bit her lip nervously, eyes flicking between the authority figures in the room searching for their approval. And she would be his superior. He also knew that she hated him. She had every right to; he hadn't exactly been civil to her while they were at Hogwarts. While he regretted all the times he'd called her a Mudblood, he winced slightly at the memory, he knew they would have been rivals regardless of her blood status. Hermione Granger had loathed him and if the forced smile on her face when they'd been reintroduced was any indication, she still did. He was certain she didn't want him on her team, which only made this assignment even more difficult. But as she began to give her profile, his annoyance turned to shock. Having been briefed on the case at the start of the meeting, everything Granger had determined about this killer, unsub was the term she kept using and he had no idea what it meant, made perfect sense. However, he was baffled by how she had been able to determine all of it. Her analysis of the victims and their suspect impressed him, though he'd never admit that to her. The details of the crime were chilling, but the corresponding profile made them infinitely more disturbing. As the senior members of the meeting commented on the profile, Draco continued to just stare at her. She looked different than he'd remembered; of course, he hadn't consistently seen her since their sixth year, nearly eight years ago. They'd crossed paths on occasion within the Ministry, but never for long enough he'd bothered to really look at her. Hermione, who had been avoiding his eye since their forced reintroduction at the start of the meeting, finally caught his glance. She held it for a few moments looking confused before her eyes flicked downward. Still has self-conscious as ever, he noted. Mafalda began to speak, and Draco finally looked away from Hermione.

"You asked for one of my analysts to assist in the case, particularly one focusing on Dark Magic. Mr. Malfoy is the current lead analyst dealing with dark artifacts, and I believe he could be of great assistance on this case. Mr. Malfoy has proven himself within my department time and time again, and I am certain he will continue to do so with this case. If there is a political component to these attacks, his… unique background may be especially helpful." Draco fought the urge to laugh as she struggled to mention his past in the most diplomatic way possible. They all knew what he had been. It wasn't exactly a secret. He'd pushed his sleeves up slightly throughout the course of the meeting, as the conference room was particularly stuffy, and he noted the bottom of his Dark Mark was just visible; despite having it for less than two years before Voldemort died it had never fully faded. It had been a slate grey color for years, and he'd given up hope that it would ever fade. It no longer bothered him. When he was younger he felt that if his mark disappeared, his past as a Death Eater would vanish with it. He now knew that nothing could erase his past. He had been a Death Eater, and not having the mark would not change that truth. Mafalda continued, "I know there are many within the Ministry, including the auror department, that do not trust Mr. Malfoy's reform. His sentence was a widely contested issue within your department seven years ago. I assure you that he can be trusted. If you do not want to trust him, at least trust my judgement. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Corner, you asked me for an analyst to aide your team in this investigation. I will be extraordinarily disappointed if I hear Mr. Malfoy is being treated as anything other than an asset to your team." Draco couldn't decide if he wanted to thank or hex his superior. On one hand, he sincerely appreciated how much she had grown to respect and appreciate him. On the other, her words made him feel like a child whose mother was lecturing other children about bullying her son. It was equal parts flattering and humiliating, and Draco worked to keep his face blank. The rest of the room sat in silence, shifting uncomfortably at what Mafalda had said.

Surprisingly, Hermione broke the awkward silence, "We appreciate your assistance, Ms. Hopkirk. This is a particularly difficult case and having an outside perspective will certainly be very helpful." She addressed Draco now. "Our past is rocky, to say the least, but I'm more than capable of putting that behind us to be professional if you are. I want to solve this case. Preferably before another young woman falls victim to this unsub."

"What exactly does unsub mean?" He should've said something else. Should've thanked her for the olive branch, though he was nowhere near naïve enough to actually trust it. He was sure that away from the eyes of their superiors, things between him and Granger would quickly devolve. She was putting on a show for her boss. He should've responded in kind.

"Right, there's a lot of BAU specific terminology I forget most people aren't familiar. Unsub stands for Unknown Subject," she emphasized the portions of the words contained in the term. "It's just a term we use for the suspect in an investigation."

Draco nodded. "Thank you for your graciousness, Granger," Merlin, he was laying it on thick. "I'd be more than happy to move past our pasts."

With that, the meeting began to wrap up. They'd spent nearly 90 minutes in the conference room discussing the case and Draco was eager to stretch his legs. He was far less eager to begin working with Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy," she addressed him curtly. "I've arranged for my secretary to send you copies of all our case files, and you've been granted clearance for the case. I need to present my profile to the aurors and I have some paperwork to finish, so why don't you come by my office after lunch." She didn't ask, she told. Because she was in charge here. Draco bit his tongue, wanting nothing more than to knock her down a level or two, but they were still surrounded by superiors. He couldn't exactly disappoint Mafalda after that speech she gave in his defense.

"Fine, Granger. I'd like to review the files anyway."

* * *

Hermione swung the door of Harry's office open without even knocking. "They have me working with Draco Malfoy. Can you believe that? The Improper Use of Magic analyst we requested for the case is the bloody ferret," she huffed, dropping down onto the small couch.

Harry looked up from his papers in disbelief, "You're joking, 'Mione."

"I am not! I had to sit there and feel him glaring at me while I gave my entire presentation. I had to talk about how I was 'willing to forget our past' as if he didn't spend years insulting everything about me. I have to work with Draco bloody Malfoy."

Harry stood up from his desk, sitting down next to her on the sofa and throwing an arm over her shoulder. "Maybe it won't be that bad?" She could tell from his tone that he didn't believe what he was saying.

"Oh, we both know he's going to fight with me and undermine me on everything. I'm the expert here! This is a BAU case and I'm the lead profiler. It's my case!"

"I've crossed paths briefly with him involving some artifacts stuff and it wasn't too bad," he offered weakly.

"Crossed paths briefly? So, you had to work with him for what, an hour? Harry, as much as I want to catch this bastard tomorrow, we're weeks away from that. He hasn't made a single mistake. The profile could refer to hundreds of men. This is going to take much longer than an hour."

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. If he messes with you at all, let me know and I'll handle it."

"Thanks," she muttered halfheartedly. She knew that Harry meant well, but she couldn't help but feel a little defensive when he and Ron offered to protect her. She'd spent nearly all of their time at Hogwarts and during the war protecting the two of them. She was the brightest witch of her age, with ten OWLs and seven NEWTs. She was an auror. She didn't need saving. She could handle a lousy little ferret like Draco Malfoy on her own, thank you very much. "What were you working on," she changed the subject.

"Someone's been intersecting shipments of potions ingredients. They're taking everything, which makes it difficult to target why they're doing it. It could just be for resale purposes, or they could be brewing something nasty and are hiding that by taking all types of ingredients rather than just the ones they need. But some dangerous stuff has gone missing."

Hermione nodded. Normally she'd offer some assistance, but she had no time to spare with her current case. "Well, I better leave you to it. Sorry, for interrupting."

"I was actually about to head to a late lunch with Cho. You're welcome to join."

Hermione shook her head, "I'm supposed to meet Malfoy in fifteen, I'm just going to have Miranda grab something for me from downstairs."

"Maybe next time," he smiled. "And you should go out with us sometime. I'm sure Cho can set you up with someone, she knows plenty of Quidditch players."

"Quidditch players?"

"Well that's your type, isn't it?"

"It is not!" She huffed. She was not the type of girl to have a thing for athletes, thank you very much.

"Krum, McLaggen, Ron, Krum again, Ginny's friend on Puddlemere Greenwood…"

"That's all just coincidence! And you can't say I dated, McLaggen, I spent that entire Christmas party trying to keep him from snogging me."

"Fair bit of coincidence… But fine. Maybe she has friends at the Profit. But you should go out with us sometime. Maybe this weekend?"

"Maybe," Hermione offered halfheartedly. She knew she'd be buried in the case over the weekend. But what harm could one drink do? Wasn't it just this morning that she had been contemplating how stagnant her personal life was? "But I want to vet the bloke ahead of time. The last blind date I went on was bloody awful." And with that she exited Harry's office, wondering if Quidditch players really were her type as she crossed the DMLE to her office. "Miranda, you should go to lunch. And could you grab me something to eat from downstairs on you way back in?" She handed the girl a few sickles. "I've been too busy to go myself, and Mr. Malfoy is supposed to meet me in ten."

"Of course, Miss Granger."

Hermione tried to straighten up her office before Malfoy arrived. The last thing she needed was to give him something to criticize. There were just too many documents to make proper order of it all. She pinned a few more things on the board before sitting down, waiting for his arrival. She tried to read over the interview notes but was too nervous to focus properly. She heard a knock on her door. "Come in," she called out, not looking up from the paper she was pretending to read. She didn't want to look like she'd been waiting for him.

She heard the door open and the sound of footsteps, still not looking up from the document.

"My office is bigger," he said with a satisfied smirk. Hermione Granger may essentially be her boss, but at least he had a larger office. Pity he was stuck inside hers for the time being.

Hermione scowled, finally looking up at him. "Size isn't everything, Malfoy."

Malfoy shrugged, "That sounds exactly what someone lacking in size would say." He shut the door behind him and walked up to her desk, conjuring a chair and sitting across from her. "I've reviewed the files."

"And?"

"The curse analysis is rudimentary. It's to gather any real information about a magical signature from them, since they're so basic. It's too late for the current victims but if there's another one, I'd like to perform the analysis myself. And I'd fire whoever performed these ones. There's not much to be said for the curses the unsub selected, either." He was determined to adopt the proper terminology. He didn't want to give Granger any excuse to lecture him. "The residences were all easy to break into, and it seems he disarmed and then physically overpowered them. A cleaning charm and a slicing hex aren't particularly unique. It's not a surprise that the unsub was capable of casting a cruciatus curse. It's practically tame compared to the rest of what he did."

"The curse analysis is up to crime scene standard," she argued.

"Than your standard is rubbish, Granger. This work is a decade behind what we do in the Improper Use of Magic Office. My intern, who's a bloody idiot, could do this analysis."

He'd only been here for five minutes and he was already throwing insults. "That's enough, Malfoy. If there is another victim," she swallowed the urge to say when. She knew there would be another victim. They weren't close enough to catching the culprit, and his killing speed would only continue to increase. "You may perform the curse analysis."

He hated that she had the power to shut him down like that. "Well I assume that I'm here so we can combine your behavioral profile with a magical one, and I can't do that with what I've been given."

"You looked at the files for a few hours, Malfoy. Forgive me if I don't believe you've exhausted all possibilities."

And now she was doubting his competency. He was far more than competent. He'd risen in a department that was at first determine to watch him fail because of his talents. "This is not my fault, Granger."

"It never is, is it?" She knew working with him would be insufferable. He was still the same entitled, arrogant brat he'd been at school. He may no longer be a Death Eater, he may have grown several inches, his face may have lost its pointiness and moved into masculine angles, but he was still just a petulant child, throwing a fit when things didn't go his way. "I have far better things to be doing than arguing with you, Malfoy."

Once again, she tried to shut him down. Once again, it pissed him off. "I have a case I could be working on, Granger. You and your superiors insisted that you needed my help."

"An analyst's help," she insisted. "You're not special, Malfoy."

"I looked over the files. I presented my opinion. It's not my fault that you didn't like them, Granger."

"Fine, Malfoy. We have the victim's wands, if you wanted to look over those. Our priori incantantems showed no defensive spells, but maybe you'll find something of note."

It was a fool's errand and they both knew it. "There's not much you can do with a wand other than priori incantantem, but fine." Hermione flicked her wand, summoning a small box on her bookshelf. She leaned across her desk to hand it to him. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"I have some interviews today, which you won't be a part of, but if I feel anything is relevant to your analysis, I'll let you know."

"Fine, then I'll head back to my office to work on the wands. Expect my memo later today." It wouldn't take long to confirm that this was a dead end."

"Goodbye, Malfoy." She said cooly. He exited without a word. They both had the same thought on opposite sides of her door; this was going to be miserable.

* * *

As Draco had known, there was little the wands could tell him, especially those of the first two victims; it had simply been too long since they were held. Miss Autry's last spell was one to heat water. The same one he'd used this morning in his shower and on his tea. Miss Jacobs' last spell had been one to fold laundry. Miss Smith's was scourgify, the same spell her attacker used to rid her body of any trace of him. They were all standard housekeeping type spells, which didn't seem to provide any insight into the killer. Still, Draco jotted down the spells and their connections, sure that Granger was already aware of that. The wands had been handled by countless witches and wizards post-mortem, which made it impossible to determine if the killer had ever handled the wand. There were simply too many different traces of magic on them. A wand chooses its wizard. It's the fundamental rule of wandlore. Consequentially, if a want is handled by another person, particularly a hostile one, it can leave a trace. Draco recorded this information, requesting that the wands of future victims handled by as few people as possible and only wearing gloves, so as not to overpower any potential indication that the unsub was handling the wands. If his goal was to dominate them, handling their wands would be a part of that. It seemed morose to discuss future victims, but he was certain there would be more before this case was solved; if Granger was correct, and he was certain she was, they could expect an increase in victim frequency until the bastard was caught. He looked over his memo, disappointed but not surprised that he had not been able to uncover more. He folded it up and cast a quick spell that sent the note whizzing out of his office and to Granger's.

Draco returned to the case files, pouring over them and taking his own notes. While the details regarded the curse analysis had left much to be desired, he was intrigued by the profiling work. It was unlike anything he had ever been exposed to in his six years with the Improper Use of Magic Office. Working with Granger was certainly a thorn in his side, but Draco was determined that it wouldn't inhibit him from proving his worth to the DMLE. He'd worked hard to restore some respect to the Malfoy name after the war, and that tenacity was not going to fade simply because he loathed his superior. Merlin, he couldn't decide whether he loathed Granger or the fact that Granger was technically his superior on this case more.

Several hours later, a memo slid under his door and onto his desk. He unfolded it, mentally preparing himself for Granger to chastise him for not uncovering more with the wands.

" _Malfoy,_

 _We had noted the housekeeping nature of the spells. We're unsure if that means anything. The victims were all home alone, it makes sense they were cleaning or folding laundry or (potentially) making tea. That's interesting about the wands. I don't think anyone has thought of that. I sent a memo over to Ms. Jones and she'll inform the aurors not to touch the wands without gloves of some sort._

 _Granger"_

The note was surprisingly civil. He tried to respond the same way.

" _Granger,_

 _Even with gloves, a trace can still be left. Dragonhide gloves work the best for inhibiting it. Normal fabric won't do. The wands should still be handled by as few people as possible. If I'm to do the curse analysis on the bodies, I'd request the wands be left for me as well._

 _Malfoy"_

Draco sent the note off and continued to analyze the case files. One thing was certain; the man was deranged. Draco had far too much experience with the crutiatus curse. He'd witnessed it being cast countless times. He'd been required to use it on a handful of occasions. He'd even had it used on himself, particularly after the Golden Trio had escaped from Malfoy Manor. But it took a particular type of person to actually derive any sort of pleasure from it. The only people who'd ever seemed to truly enjoy watching their victims thrash and scream in pain were Bellatrix, Macnair, and Voldemort. According to Granger's analysis, it was likely the bastard used the curse on them while raping them. He felt sick to his stomach. Draco looked up at the clock and was relieved to see that it was 5:36; he was ready to leave these files behind, though he was sure their contents would haunt his nightmares. He walked over to the office fireplace, throwing a pinch of floo powder into it. He called out Malfoy Manor and casting a quick protego around his head before sticking it into the fire; he hated the way floo covered him with soot. "Mother?" He called out, waiting for him to venture into the drawing room.

"Draco?" He heard her before he saw her. She appeared in front of the fireplace smiling.

"I'm done at the office, if you weren't busy."

"Please come over, dear. It's been weeks."

"Give me a second," he nodded, pulling his head out of the fireplace. He stood up, gabbing another handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor," he clearly enunciated as he threw the powder down. He held his breath as the fire roared, feeling the magic pull him from his navel from the Ministry fireplace. A few moments later, he was facing his mother. He stepped from the fireplace, dusting himself off. "Hello, mother."

"Draco, darling." She smiled, placing a hand on his forearm. The Malfoys were not particularly affectionate. "Have you eaten? I got back from Italy a few weeks ago and while in Rome I fell in love with the most fabulous dish. It's called caccio e pepe."

"You haven't told me about your trip yet."

"Well you've been busy. Melanie and I had a fabulous time. We started in Milan and worked our way south. I must go back to the Amalfi coast during the summer, it was simply stunning. It's been years since I'd gone to Italy. I always just go to Paris for the shops you know. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is. And all the food and wine. It's simply marvelous."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Mother." If anyone could somehow shop themselves through the Malfoy fortune, it would be Narcissa. Such a thing was impossible, but if anyone could do it, it would be Narcissa.

"It was brilliant. You work too hard, you know. When's the last time you went on a vacation, dear?"

Draco shrugged, it had been at least a year. "You know I work a lot, mother."

"Still, you deserve a break. Maybe once this case is finished, we can take a trip together."

Draco just nodded, not wanting to commit himself to anything. Draco loved his mother, but they were too alike to spend that much time together. She had a point, though. He did need a vacation. Once this case was over, he imagined himself spending a month in the Maldives with a leggy blonde. That was a vacation. "So, what is this caccio e pepe?"

"Oh, it's a wonderfully simple pasta. It's just spaghetti with pecorino romano and black pepper. Absolutely marvelous, I ate it nearly every day in Rome. I have no idea how Italian women stay so svelte, I swear I've gone up an entire robe size from my trip. The couture I bought in Milan hardly fits."

"You look wonderful, mother."

"You have to say that, dear. I'll start dinner in an hour? It doesn't take long to make. We can have a drink and catch up until then?"

"Of course. I'll take an Ogden's. Neat."

"I was thinking tea," she rolled her eyes but walked over to the small sofa, summoning his Ogden's, a bottle of white wine, and two glasses. Draco sat down in the armchair, taking the drink his mother handed him. Merlin, he needed a drink. It had been a long day.

"So, how's work? You mentioned a new case." Draco just grunted. "How loquacious, dear."

"It was a very long day. I'm doing curse analysis for that serial killer case. It was on the front page of the Profit today, you probably saw it."

Narcissa paled, "Yes, I saw it. It's absolutely brutal. Truly horrifying, those poor women and their families."

Draco nodded, he didn't particularly want to discuss the case. He'd spent the entire day staring at pictures of mangled women and he was ready to leave that behind. "Yeah, it's disturbing for sure. You don't even know the half of it." He took another large sip of his drink, relishing in the burn. "And as if the case weren't difficult enough, I'm reporting to none other than Hermione Granger."

"I didn't realize she was still an auror." Narcissa kept up with gossip.

"She's moved into something called the Behavior Analysis Unit. She profiles suspects to help catch them. It's very interesting. She's still insufferable, though."

"Draco," she warned.

"I've worked so hard to change my reputation, and she doesn't respect me in the slightest."

"Well our family has not exactly been good to her, Draco. And we both know you were never kind to her at school. You can't blame her for being defensive."

Narcissa was right, of course, but Draco was annoyed she wasn't taking his side in this. "Working with her is going to be a nightmare."

"I'm sure it'll get easier." Draco didn't share her sentiment but nodded anyway. He wanted this conversation to end. Narcissa picked up on that. However, the subject she changed to was possibly even worse. "So if you weren't dating Astoria Greengrass, why does Witch Weekly think you two were an item?"

"We went out a few times, mother. It was hardly a relationship."

"You need to settle down, Draco. I don't even want to know how many women you've dated these past few years."

"I have no intention of settling down anytime soon, mother."

"I can't help that I want grandchildren, dear."

"Children are the last thing on my mind, mother."

"You should really let me set you up, dear. Astoria was respectable, but some of the women you go out with are, for lack of a better word, a little trashy."

Draco chuckled to himself, thinking about how unrespectable Astoria Greengrass really was. "I don't need you to set me up, mother. I do fine on my own."

"Maybe too fine. Malfoy men are notorious womanizers."

He was even less comfortable discussing his sex life with his mother than he was the case. "I'm actually getting hungry, mother. Didn't have much time for lunch, today."

She sensed he was avoiding the subject but didn't press on it. "Of course. Come with me to the kitchen, it only takes a few minutes.

* * *

A/N: Some ship stuff! I don't necessarily have anything against Hinny, it's just all of Rowling's pairings in the epilogue seemed way too convenient. Ginny had a childhood crush on Harry and she's his best friend's younger sister… I love her as a character I just think their relationship would've fizzled out. Just like Hermione and Ron. Love them as characters (there will be no legit Ron bashing in this fic) but their relationship was too convenient to last. They would've briefly dated and then realized that they were much better off as friends. I also really like butch Quidditch star Ginny with ultra femme daydreamer Luna, alright? And I feel like Cho gets too much hate, honestly. I could see her and Harry reconnecting for a bit after not seeing each other for years. Blaise and Theo are just a kinda why not thing? Also, sorry if some of my timelines don't quite match up. I'm not great with that so the years out of school I quote (time Draco's been with the Improper Use Dept, all Hermione's training times, etc.), might not add up right. This is supposed to be 7 ish years out of Hogwarts, so Hermione/Draco are 25/26ish.

I apologize to Revelations readers – James and Lily are still not cooperating with me. But I'm close to 2k words so I'll probably have it up next week?

Thank you to guest for my first review! I am going to keep going with the story. Can't promise any regularity with updates, as I have another WIP and am a fulltime grad student with a part time job, but I'm enjoying writing this.

Reviews are amazing, let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I own no part of Harry Potter and make no money off of any of this.

Draco sipped his Firewhiskey, trying to follow his friends' conversation. Blaise, Adrian, and Pansy's husband, Sergei, were deep in conversation about the crumbling economics of Wizarding Eastern Europe while Pansy sat on the floor playing with their daughter. Theo flitted about the room, refilling glasses before settling down onto the loveseat next to Blaise. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, on the contrary, he had quite a bit to say about the current recession in Eastern Europe, he was simply exhausted. He'd been at the office late every night this week pouring over case files and reading up on criminal psychology and profiling. While he hadn't been brought onto the case to act as a profiler, he was tired of Granger's ramblings going over his head. And there was no way he was going to ask her to explain what the difference between a psychopath and a narcissistic sociopath was. He didn't need to invite her condescension, every word she spoke dripped in it no matter the circumstances. Finally giving up on following the chatter, Draco's gaze shifted to examine the sitting room. Blaise and Theodore's flat was tastefully decorated. A little dramatic for his tastes, but there was no denying the two men had an eye for detail; he simply preferred a more minimalist look after growing up in the lavish gothic glamour of Malfoy Manor. The antique furniture was masterfully restored and reupholstered with rich velvets, the fireplace was ornate, and the mantle covered with priceless artifacts from both families, as well as items they'd picked up on their travels. Theo worked freelance with the Profit, and Blaise's work with Gringotts sent him all around the continent.

Draco smiled slightly as he observed his friends. They had been the lucky ones. The ones that had managed to survive the war, avoid Azkaban, and leave their parents' prejudiced dogma behind. While Pureblood beliefs had focused on dehumanizing Muggles and Muggleborns, they certainly did not support homosexuality. While Draco had always had a feeling Theo and Blaise had been more than friends, it wasn't until years after the war that they'd finally made their relationship public. It certainly hadn't been easy for them, but at least now all they faced were occasional disgusted glances and rude comments. Before the war they very likely could have been killed for it. Blaise had never had much of a father figure, seeing how his mother and jumped from marriage to marriage before dying shortly after the war. Theo's father had killed his mother over a suspected affair during their third year, and he had died during the Final Battle. Adrian Pucey had always been fairly mild mannered for a Slytherin, and it didn't surprise Draco in the slightest that he had mostly avoided the politics of the war. A few years older than Draco, Draco had always respected Adrian while they played Quidditch together; he was one of the few players who relied on tact and technique over brutality and bending the rules to win. Draco had fully expected Pansy to remain stuck in her ways, but he'd been pleasantly surprised when she married a Muggleborn man who'd moved from Ukraine to work at the Ministry. Blaise had introduced them, as their professional paths had crossed. He was, of course, incredibly wealthy – some things would never change with Pansy – but they seemed very happy. Draco was hardly one for sentimental displays, but he found himself feeling incredibly fortunate that they'd all made new lives for themselves after all they'd been exposed to as children and adolescents. He took another sip of Firewhiskey, frowning at himself for the emotions and blaming it on his exhaustion.

Draco was interrupted from his thoughts by a toddler pulling at his trousers. He smiled down at his goddaughter, "Hello, Vanessa."

"Up?" She pouted up at him.

Draco nodded, pulling the three year old up into his lap and returning his attention to his friends. "You're lucky she doesn't have your nose, Pansy. Or at least your former nose," he teased.

"You're lucky I don't want to cross the room to slap you, Draco."

He simple chuckled.

"How's work going?" Adrian asked.

Draco grimaced, "It's pretty rough, actually. I've been pulled onto an assignment with the Auror Department." He paused to cover his goddaughter's ears. She didn't need to hear these sort of unpleasantries. Thankfully she was preoccupied with her toy dragon and hardly noticed. "Those women who've been raped and murdered, you've probably read about it in The Profit."

"Isn't that a little out of your area?" Sergei frowned.

"Completely. I've exclusively been doing dark artifact analysis for the past couple of years. But the Auror Department requested an analyst and Mafalda decided I was up for the task. I couldn't exactly refuse it. And I can't really rise much higher in what I'm currently doing unless Hitchcock, the Junior Head, resigns. Or Maflada does and he gets promoted, though I doubt he'd promote me."

"It's just awful stuff," Pansy shuttered.

"You don't even know the half of it. I really can't comment further, but most of the worst details haven't made their way to the press yet. It's sickening."

"How's working with the Aurors? We all know they aren't our biggest fans." Blaise chuckled darkly. He'd been forced to work with Aurors on Gringotts matters on a handful of occasions, and always ranted about how they treated him as a suspect rather than an associate. And Draco was the only one with the Dark Mark prominently displayed on his left forearm, harsh against his alabaster skin. They had even more reason to distrust him that the rest of his friends.

Draco snorted, "It's not just that I'm working with Aurors. Hermione Granger is the lead on the case. Or at least the part of the case I'm working on."

Pansy nearly spit her drink out. "You're joking," she sputtered.

"I wish." Draco took another deep sip of his drink, praising Salazar that it was finally the weekend and he wouldn't have to deal with the aforementioned Muggleborn until Monday.

"I'm surprised she hasn't hexed you to oblivion yet," Theo chuckled. "Or that you haven't tried to off her."

"Believe me, it's been close," he frowned, "And we've only been working together for a week."

"She's quite pretty now," Pansy said absentmindedly. "What?" She added, noting the looks of shock on her former classmates faces. "She's in the papers all the time. Witch Weekly hardly has an issue that doesn't include some paparazzi photographs of her. The girl was all buckteeth and bushy hair while we were at Hogwarts, but she finally learned what conditioner is and she's certainly come into her own."

Draco didn't know what to say. She certainly wasn't the bushy haired teenager he'd known from school, but he'd been too distracted by her incessant chatter every time they'd interacted this week to notice her appearance.

"She dates a lot of Quidditch players, too." Theo added. Pansy had always been a bit of a gossip, and the two of them brought out the worst in each other. Draco returned to his drink, not interested in the recent turn in conversation.

"Apparently she and Greenwood aren't together anymore. According to Witch Weekly anyway. And speaking of breakups covered in Witch Weekly, what happened with you and Astoria?"

Draco groaned, "We were hardly even together, Pans. I don't know why everyone keeps bringing this up."

"I thought you two got along?" Theo pushed.

"She's your type," Adrian smirked. "All leggy and blonde."

Draco shrugged, "She's fit, yes. Interesting, not at all. You've got to let birds like that go quickly, before they start getting any ideas."

"I have a friend I could set you up with," Pansy suggested.

"Pansy, the last girl you set me up with tried to convince me she was pregnant and I needed to marry her," he moved to cover his goddaughters ears again, but she'd fallen asleep, "after we'd only shagged once and she was so bloody boring in the sack I never even finished, my perfect contraceptive charms aside. Forgive me if I'm not interested in meeting anymore of your friends."

"Well I'm not exactly an heir, so feel free to introduce me to any of your friends, Pansy. The crazier the better," Adrian winked suggestively.

"Merlin, you two are such children."

Draco looked down at the sleeping child against his chest and felt a wave of exhaustion pass over him. It'd been a long week, and the Firewhiskey probably wasn't helping. He looked down at his watch and found it was nearly midnight. He stood, scooping Vanessa up into his arms. "I hate to be the first to go, but I've had a long week and could use some sleep." He walked over to the couch and set Vanessa down next to her father.

Pansy stood, kissing him on the cheek. "Of course, Draco. But we'll see you next weekend for Sergei's birthday party?"

"Of course."

He said his goodbyes before flooing back to his flat. He barely managed to take both shoes off before collapsing onto his bed.

* * *

It was a crisp Saturday evening and Hermione watched the sunset out of her window as she poured over case files. Another Saturday night with nothing but her work and a crisp glass of rosé to keep her company. Lovely. Hermione had never really minded taking her work home with her before. She did exceptionally important work, and the criminals she hunted didn't exactly stop just because it was after 5pm or the weekend. Perhaps it was the passing of her twenty-sixth birthday, or her friends' blossoming personal lives, even Harry was managing to maintain a long-term relationship, or maybe it was just that she hadn't been shagged in a couple months, but she found herself resenting the case files spread out around her at the dining table. As if summoned by her thoughts, she heard her fireplace roar, and she turned around to see Harry step out of it.

"Harry! What're you doing here?"

"You never answered me about this weekend. Figured I'd pop by and see if you wanted to go out with Cho and me tonight. She has two different friends she could bring along."

"I should really work on the case," she said halfheartedly. She wanted to go out. She'd just been thinking about how much she didn't want to stay home with her work tonight, but she had to keep up appearances.

"I'm sure you've already gone over the files hundreds of times, Mione. And with that photographic memory of yours, if the bloke is a total bore you can just go through them in your head at dinner."

"Dinner?"

"There's a new sushi spot in Diagon Alley. I don't remember the name, but it's apparently brilliant."

"I do love sushi…" She was already planning what she was going to wear.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," Harry insisted.

"Fine," she huffed dramatically, as if he were twisting her arm about it. "I guess I'll go," she was internally singing. She needed a break from the horrors of her job. She needed to have some fun with her friends. And she definitely needed a shag. It'd been months since her short-lived romance with Roger Greenwood, and he hadn't even been particularly good. "If I get chewed out at work on Monday I'm blaming you, Chosen One."

Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname; there were some things you could never live down and being the only person to survive the killing curse was certainly one of them. "Shut it."

"Do you prefer Boy Who Lived? Boy Who Lived Twice is probably more accurate," she teased. "Our Great Savior never gained as much traction as the Boy Who Lived and the Chosen One did, but I think it's rather fetching. A true wizarding Jesus."

"I'm leaving now. Reservations are at seven thirty," Hermione glanced over at the clock; an hour was plenty of time for her to get ready.

"I thought I got to vet the two candidates. That was our agreement, wasn't it?"

"That was before you likened me to Jesus Christ. I might scrap both the lads and pick someone completely awful just to punish you."

Hermione pouted dramatically, "I thought you loved me and wanted me to be happy."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, "Fine. Option 1 is Chester Dawlish. He works with Cho at the Profit. He's a bit older, I think he'd nearly forty but he's a senior editor at the Profit and I know how much you hate having to correct a man's grammar. The other bloke is Giovanni Cristo. He plays Quidditch and I know you got all huffy insisting that Quidditch players aren't your type, but all evidence points to the contrary. He was just traded from Forza Firenze to the Arrows. Cho did a profile on him last week and he plays for the Italian National Team. He's a brilliant Keeper. And of course, Ginny wants me to remind you that Charlie is still single."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I can't date Charlie Weasley. Dating one of Ron's brothers would just feel so wrong."

"You know how obsessed she is with you being part of the family officially."

"Do you have pictures?"

"Do you think I prepared Auror files on them both?"

"Well that would've been nice." Hermione didn't want to reinforce everyone's beliefs that she was 'into Quidditch players.' She was an intellectual and a professional, celebrity status as a war hero aside. But forty was quite old. It wasn't that the idea of dating older men particularly bothered her, it was just that the reality of it was generally very different from the idea. Men in their forties looking to date women in their twenties nearly always had some sort of complex, and she wasn't looking to be condescended towards. She was objectively a genius, but men of that age always tried to lecture her on her own area of expertise. "Forty is a little old…"

"That's what I thought, but Cho thought you two would get along."

Hermione frowned, "Men that age always have such a complex. We'd done more at eighteen than most do in a lifetime, I don't need some middle-aged man lecturing me on the realities of life." Plus, the Italian keeper was very likely tall, dark, and handsome, she added silently. While athletes may be overconfident and egotistical in a multitude of ways, at least they never tried to pretend to be intellectually superior. True, they could be a little dull, but it wasn't as if she was planning on marrying the bloke. She just needed a night of fun.

"I'll tell Cho to owl him. He's probably still free, but if not you might be stuck with Dawlish. I'll see you at eight. The restaurant is down near Ollivander's."

"See you soon," she smiled as he entered her fireplace, calling out Grimauld Place and disappearing into the flames.

Hermione couldn't help but beam as she returned her files to their folder. Sushi and friends and a hopefully interesting man were exactly what she needed to put the case out of her mind for the evening. She needed a break from thinking about sexual sadists and anger excitation rapists. She grabbed her glass of wine and headed up the stairs to her bathroom. Her hair was still damp from her earlier shower, and she took it out of its clip, inhaling deeply as the smell of lavender wafted around her. She squeezed some of her favorite styling product, Sleekeazy's Curly Whirly, into her palm and ran her fingers through her hair. It smelled of jasmine, adding to the herbal and floral scent of her hair. She added more product to her hair and began methodically twisting sections of it, so it'd fall in more defined ringlets than the bushy mane she'd sported as a child. It really was no one's fault that she'd never learned how to style her hair; both of her parents had pin straight locks, yet their daughter had handfuls of coarse, curly hair. After twisting the last strand, she pulled her wand from the pocket of her robe and dried and set her hair with a quick flick of her wrist. Satisfied with her hair, she examined her complexion, patting a light concealer under her eyes; foundation had always made her skin itch. She combed her brows and patted a light gold concealer onto her lids before applying mascara. She brushed a pale pink blush onto her cheeks and finished with a lip balm. She took another sip of her wine as she walked to her room, stopping in front of her closet. Harry hadn't given any specific details about the restaurant, but it was safe to assume that it was a nice place; Cho had expensive taste. She examined her options, pausing at a blush pink wrap dress that reached mid-thigh. It was classy, yet undeniably sexy. She let her robe fall to the ground and slid on her dress. She tied it around her waist, tugging at the neckline to lower it slightly. She added a simple gold necklace, an heirloom from her maternal grandmother, and nude pumps. She examined her reflection in the floor length mirror, satisfied that she looked tastefully alluring. Hermione returned downstairs, placing her empty glass into the sink and checking the clock; it was time for her to leave. She grabbed a camel coat from her coat closet and summoned her wallet from wherever it had been hiding.

She apparated into the Leaky Cauldron, smiling at Tom as she passed the bar on her way to the entryway into Diagon Alley. She tapped the corresponding bricks and pulled her coat tight around her as the crisp evening air rushed towards her through the opening. She walked deliberately through Diagon Alley, pausing briefly in front of Florish and Blott's; thankfully it was closed, or she'd never make dinner. The sushi restaurant was across from Ollivander's, as Harry had mentioned. It was sleek, all dark colors and sharp angles with contrasting glass and silver accents. She approached the host stand, smiling at the young woman working the door. "I'm meeting some friends here. Reservation under Potter. Or possibly Chang."

The young woman nodded meekly, a reaction Hermione had grown accustomed to post-War. At least she wasn't asking her for an autograph. "Right, Potter," she stammered. Hermione wondered how she'd behaved when her best friend had been here in person. Unless she was the first to arrive, which would be uncomfortable. She offered the girl a supportive smile. "Your friends have arrived, right this way, Ms. Granger."

Hermione wondered which man she'd be meeting as she followed the hostess through the restaurant. She couldn't help but smile when she finally caught sight of her friends sitting in a cozy booth accompanied by a man who certainly wasn't a forty year old editor. She adjusted her dress one last time before walking with her head high to the table. She smiled as Harry caught sight of her, "Glad you joined us, Mione."

"I said I was coming, didn't I?" She chuckled, hoping Mr. Cristo was watching her. "Good to see you again, Cho. It's been ages."

"You never leave the office," the other woman smiled. "I'm always trying to get Harry to get you out with us."

"Guilty as charged."

Giovanni Cristo stood, and he was every bit as tall and handsome as she had hoped. Not bad, Cho. "Ms. Granger," he practically purred, "It's a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and kissed it lightly."

"Il piacere è tutto mio," she said as she slid into the booth. "I apologize, my Italian is atrocious."

"Non sapevo che parli italiano. And that was wonderful."

"Hermione can learn anything she sets her mind to," Harry said matter of factly.

Hermione blushed slightly, "I've always been interested in languages. I speak French fairly well, a bit of Italian, and I want to learn German, but it's a complicated mess."

"You are just as impressive as Cho said you were," Giovanni smirked.

"Have you been gossiping about me?" She playfully asked Cho.

"Nothing but the truth, I swear."

Hermione looked over the menu, "Everything sounds amazing."

Harry ginned, "Doesn't it? So glad Cho got me hooked on sushi. We were thinking of just doing the omakase, take the choosing out of our hands."

"That sounds brilliant," Hermione turned to look at the drink list. "Anyone up for some sake?"

"We already ordered a bottle." Cho grinned.

"So how're you liking England?" Hermione asked Giovanni.

"It's a little cold, but it's been great so far. I'm so busy with training I haven't done much exploring. Cho promised to show me some places when she interviewed me."

"I'm sure you must be missing Firenze. It's such a beautiful and historic city."

"You've been?"

"Only once. I traveled through Italy once with my parents over the summer. I was in awe of the

Uffizi."

"Was this before you knew you were a witch?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then you'll have to go back to see some of the wizard museums. The Uffizi has an entire Wizard wing."

"I've always dreamed of going back, but I'm always so busy with work."

"Harry mentioned you're an auror with him."

"We work in different units, but yes. I'm in something called the Behavior Analysis Unit. We work to build psychological profiles on criminals based on their behavior in order to track them down."

Giovanni shuddered, "Makes me glad I play Quidditch. Sounds like a difficult job. Worst thing I have to deal with is a Bludger to the head."

"It is. But it's very rewarding."

"You must be very strong." Hermione decided that she liked Giovanni in that moment. She was strong, and it took a specific type of man to acknowledge that. The server arrived with their sake, pouring the warm bottle into four small glasses. Hermione took a small sip of hers, smiling as it warmed her. They ordered their dinner and returned to the conversation.

"So, how's that case you mention last week going?" Hermione asked Harry.

"No progress," he groaned.

"I wish I had the time to help," she offered.

"No, you focus on your case. It's far more pressing."

The dinner passed in pleasantries and delicious sushi. Giovanni was handsome and attentive, flirtatious but reserved, a gentleman with a sinful smirk. She was captivated. Over dessert, he asked her about her family and she visibly tensed. "There's not much to tell," she said cautiously, not wanting to reveal too much. "I was an only child. My grandparents all passed away when I was young. My parents live in Australia."

"Do you see them often?"

"Not really, no." She was desperate to shift the attention away from herself, and caught Harry's eyes, hoping her desperation was evident.

"What about you, Giovanni?" Harry interrupted. "Got a big family."

"Fairly. I have two younger sisters and one older sister. Nine cousins. It's a cultural thing, Italians have big families, and everyone likes to stay close by. It's a little strange being in England without them."

Hermione offered her friend a small smile, but practically beamed when Cho changed the subject entirely. "There's a cute cocktail spot across London. Wizard owned. Anyone fancy a round of drinks?" Hermione didn't give Cho enough credit, she decided in that moment. She was certainly far more intuitive than her partner, though Harry had a tendency to be a little oblivious about these sorts of things.

"I'm certainly up for it if Hermione is," Giovanni practically purred.

"You'll have to tell me if their negroni is any good."

"You like negroni?"

Hermione smirked, "I like to say that I like my drinks just as dry and bitter as I am."

"You hardly seem bitter."

"It comes with the territory of my job, unfortunately. But I hide it well."

An obnoxious display of masculinity later, Harry had paid the bill and the group exited the restaurant and apparated across London to The Potionmaster, a swanky cocktail lounge with live jazz and overpriced drinks. Cho and Hermione settled into one of the booths while Harry and Giovanni fetched the drinks. "So, what do you think?" Cho asked coyly.

"He's certainly handsome."

"I knew you two would get along."

"I apologize for not trusting your judgement. He's quite the catch. And that accent is to die for. Now shush, they're on their way over."

"It's certainly not the best negroni I've ever tried, but it's more than adequate."

Hermione watched him as he sipped her drink. He was very tall and muscular, his face dominated by strong cheekbones and the shadow of stubble across his angular jaw. "I think it's delicious, but you probably know better than I do."

"It's definitely good, but you can tell that the vermouth could be better."

He didn't lecture. Didn't condescend. Hermione was so sick of men condescending to her. She took another large sip of her drink. "Care to dance?"

He stood from the booth and offered her his hand, "Sarebbe un piacere."

The band was playing a slow number, so he held her close, leading her gently around the room. He was so very tall, the top of her head reached the top of his chest, and she was wearing heels. He smelled like broom polish and clean detergent. They swayed for a few more songs before returning to the table. Harry was whispering something into Cho's ear. Hermione took another sip of her drink, frowning as she tasted how much of the ice had melted. "Shall we get another drink? This one has mostly melted." Giovanni nodded and followed her to the bar. She smiled at the bartender, waiting to catch his eye.

"What can I get you two?"

"Well this place is known for its specialty cocktails. Surprise me. I like something dry. Gin based. Bitter."

"I have something in mind. And for you, sir."

"I'll take an Ogden's. Neat."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I've never developed a taste for Firewhiskey. Or Muggle whiskey, for that matter. It's just not my thing."

"It's an acquired taste. But not many people like gin."

"I like how crisp it is."

The bartender returned with their drinks. "Here's your Ogden's. And we call this the Wicked Witch. Let me know what you think."

Hermione chuckled, "The Wicked Witch? Certainly sounds dry and bitter to me." She took a small sip, "And it definitely delivers. It's delicious."

The pair sat at the bar. "So how do the Arrows compare to Forza?"

Giovanni shrugged, "I'm just getting started. It's a solid team, though. The Italian league is not what it used to be, too much politics and corruption. I'm glad to leave that behind. Hopefully I can bring some new skills back to the national team."

"I hope it works out for you," she smiled.

"It's nothing compared to what you do. I can't imagine a job like that."

"It's certainly difficult, but it's important work. After the war I thought I wanted to escape all of that, you know. But I'd spent my formative years fighting for the good in the world. That sort of thing sticks with you. I had to be helping people."

"That's very inspiring. You really are something, Miss Granger."

She blushed and took another sip of her drink. "Thank you, Mr. Cristo. You're not too bad yourself." She saw the signs. She was trained to notice human behavior. She saw it before he began to lean in, noticed his hand move from the bar counter towards her. She was trained to notice these things, so that she could react. Instead, she just sighed and let her eyelids flutter shut. His hand met her waist and she could feel his breath faintly on her cheek. She leaned in, and his lips grazed hers. Soft. Gentle, but with a charge of unmentioned deeds. A perfect first kiss. She smiled as he pulled away. "What do you say we get out of here?"

* * *

"I don't think it's political."

"And why's that?" Hermione had come to the same conclusion but was curious to hear Malfoy's reasoning. He'd stormed into her office first thing Monday morning to discuss the case and she'd been surprised by his insight; he'd certainly thrown himself into profiling over the past week.

"Well, he hasn't left any manifesto. Politically motivated killings always come with some sign. Notes left with the victims. Letters sent to the press. Contact to the authorities. They need us to know why they're doing it, otherwise their political statement doesn't carry. He's targeting Muggleborn women, yes. But he hasn't made a statement."

"You don't think the bodies themselves are enough of a statement?"

"They say he hates women. Muggleborn women specifically, but he's yet to correlate that to any movement. Even if he were acting alone, he's want everyone to know that he's doing this to Muggleborn women because they're Muggleborn. He'd make a comment about eradicating the children of Muggleborns by murdering Muggleborn women. They can't procreate if they're dead. His misogyny has a specific target, but it isn't political."

"I'm impressed." Even when she was paying him a compliment it felt condescending. "I'd come to the same conclusion."

He brushed it off, "I was a Death Eater for over a year. While some of Voldemort's followers were deranged enough to do something like this, no one would do it without including more of a statement. The Dark Mark existed for that purpose. A political group would want a way to claim this violence. Even someone acting alone would want to claim the violence for a movement if there was one."

"You have an idea who would do this?"

Draco shook his head, "Everyone that showed this level of sadism is dead. Macnair, Bellatrix, Muliciber... The type of people that were either already dead or didn't surrender when Voldemort died. I know some of the Snatchers were prone to sexual assault but again, either dead or in Azkaban. But none of them were smart enough to pull something like this off. I don't know, some of the low levels were brutal. I didn't interact with them much, but again, they lack the intelligence to pull something like this off. They were disposable to the cause. Voldemort counted on them wreaking havoc and then getting themselves killed."

"So, we can't confirm the unsub's blood status. Or politically leanings."

"I don't think so, no. These women are replacements for someone in his life, right? An ex-wife or girlfriend, someone who rejected his advances… If he was romantically involved with this woman, he isn't a blood purist."

"You're right, but I wish you weren't."

"Can you repeat that?"

"Repeat what?"

"I just can't believe the great Hermione Granger admitted that Draco Malfoy was right about something."

"Shut it, Malfoy. You're coming to a conclusion that I reached last week. Hardly deserving of celebration."

"But you've been a profiler for years. I started learning this stuff last week. I'm a natural. You'd better keep an eye out for your job."

"If you're done contributing to this investigation, you can go."

"So, you're admitting that I won. Brilliant. But I'm not done outshining you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, frowning at him. "What else do you have to say?"

"It is still possible he's a blood purist. Maybe this initial woman was Muggleborn, but he didn't know that. He pursued her. Perhaps they went out a few times before he found out her blood status. Once he did, he was disgusted in himself. He couldn't believe that he'd betrayed his values like that. Touched a Muggleborn. Wanted a Muggleborn. So, he lashed out and killed her. And he liked it. There may have been a secondary trigger, but I bet if we look back further we'll find a murdered Muggleborn woman. This M.O. is too sophisticated to have just started. You don't start out with that much of a plan. With low risk victims. I bet we find his original victim, and then some high risk victims that developed the M.O. Sex workers. Maybe Muggle women. He developed his signature and then went back to hunting the original objects of his rage: young, brunette, Muggleborn women."

Hermione bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. He was right. He was completely right. How on earth had Draco Malfoy learned this much about profiling in a week? It put her on edge. "That's an incredibly well-developed theory," she managed.

Draco hated the way she was always gnawing on her lips. Filthy habit, really. She did it when she was thinking, and she was nearly always thinking, so she was nearly always gnawing on her lips. "Well-developed? Is that all you've got? Don't spare my feelings, Granger. You've never been worried about insulting me before."

"You may be onto something," she admitted hesitantly. He worked to keep his face emotionless, but she saw his eyes glimmer as she acknowledged his theory. "You've clearly thought a lot about this."

"It's been difficult to think about anything else, Granger."

"You're good at this, Malfoy. You know it pains me to admit this, but you seem to have a knack for profiling."

Draco just shrugged, "I lived in close proximity to these types of people for most of my life, Granger. I may have a bit of an upper hand."

"And can you think of anyone who fits your current profile?"

"Not really, no. I take care to avoid any former associates who haven't evolved. And even at my worst, I wouldn't have befriended anyone like this. This behavior is grotesque."

"I think we should build off of your current profile. I want you to look back through unsolved murder cases that match aspects of our unsub's M.O. Look at victim type, torture method… Specifically look at higher risk victims and anyone who could be our initial trigger. I'll work with the Muggle authorities to see if I can find anything that matches. If he was looking for easy victims to develop his signature, Muggle women would provide him exactly that."

"Do I have access to those files? I'm not an auror and you know your department doesn't think highly of me."

"You do now. And don't worry, they love me far more than they dislike you. I'll get you the files. You just worry about analyzing them. This will not be easy."

"You and that photographic memory of yours could do it in a quarter of the time." Draco huffed.

"And you think you're qualified to interact with Muggle authorities? Don't make me laugh. I'll have the files to you after lunch. Keep me posted of your progress."

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter! Especially the Slytherin characters. A lot of the time Draco is written very 'lone wolf' but Slytherin's may not like a lot of people, but they're a pretty tight knit group once they do. Or at least that's how I've always felt about it as a Slytherin. I wanted to give Draco friends. I hope their dynamic works for you all! Not a ton of heavy plot stuff but I really like writing filler and I feel like it helps develop the characters? They're both grown up. Draco isn't a tortured adolescent. Hermione is not a virginal and straight laced hermit. They both have friends and do things other than work together, ya know? Also real talk why do all curly hair products have silly names? I legit have a curly whirly cream lol. Also for context, I speak Italian nearly fluently, but with a terrible accent. I don't speak any French but it makes sense to me Hermione would have a couple languages under her belt. Also I know Cho isn't Japanese! This is more about Harry growing up abused in Surrey raised by racists (Vernon is for sure xenophobic). Like they'd ever take him to a sushi restaurant. Also writing non-Dramione is annoying af so trust me that there won't be a lot of Giovanni lmao. I just wanted to give Hermione a life

Sorry it took me awhile to update, I'm a full time grad student with a part time job.


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